


QAF-US Fiction: "Realignment" (Brian/Justin)

by justinlovesart



Category: QAF (US) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:33:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justinlovesart/pseuds/justinlovesart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-510 fiction, without the bomb.</p><p>Many thanks to Flashfly for the beta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	QAF-US Fiction: "Realignment" (Brian/Justin)

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

| 

[my fic](http://justinlovesart.livejournal.com/tag/my%20fic)  
  
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1.

The night the good people of Pennsylvania voted in favor of Proposition 14, Woody's was a somber place.

It was the first time Justin had seen Brian since before the Babylon fundraiser and Brian's little vacation Down Under.

Everyone was there.

"All that work for nothing." Michael was too stunned to hide his disappointment. Ben enveloped him in a tight embrace that reminded Justin of another one, not that many years ago.

Brian watched them from a short distance, his smirk not quite reaching his eyes.

Justin thought of all the wet and freezing nights spent putting up posters, his fingers numb from the cold. Of the thousands of leaflets handed out, the homophobic comments, the weariness.

Of the comfort and loneliness of his new home at the end of each day.

"It doesn't matter that we lost. It was the right thing to do."

"Damn right, Sunshine." But even Debbie's pride and conviction couldn't dispel the sense of defeat.

"Thankfully, not all things queer require the breeders' vote. It's back to the backroom, and tonight it's free."

Brian's sweeping announcement was welcomed by a smattering of applause and subdued cheers.

"Where we obviously belong." Justin picked up his messenger bag and started to leave.

Brian intercepted him by the door.

"So, does this mean you'll never grace Babylon with your presence again?" Justin knew that behind the mocking tone, it was a real question.

"I was there recently, Brian." His voice was steady, if a little tired. "You weren't."

He pulled his woollen hat over his ears and walked out.

  
2.

"You hungry?"

The offer came out of nowhere, before Justin could stop himself. He wasn't sure why he'd made it. Perhaps to prove to Brian that this was a home, after all.

Brian had been hovering around the studio for the last twenty minutes, picking up random objects and putting them back down, running his gloved fingers over the grimy surfaces.

Rarely looking at Justin, who kept running his brush over the same spot.

"What have you got?" Brian surprised him. He'd been unconsciously bracing himself for the default rejection.

"Not much, really. Some leftover brownies my mother baked last night."

"I think I'll pass, thanks." Brian sounded both amused and disgusted. "Is she baking for you, now? I thought you weren't speaking, you being all disapproving of her boy toy."

"Oh, you've heard about that." Justin blushed slightly and wondered if Brian also knew about his run-in with Craig, about his arrest.

"We sort of made up after the vote. It put things into perspective."

Brian waited for him to elaborate.

"Tucker's not that bad."

"I'd fuck him." Brian smiled, finally making eye contact.

Justin decided to play along. "If you go for tall, dark and handsome, yes, I suppose he's hot." He shrugged and waved his paintbrush in the air. "But I guess Australia offered more of the blond, beach bunny type."

They stared at each other silently.

"How was Mardi Gras?"

Brian took a few seconds to reply, as if trying to remember. "Fabulous. Hot weather…"

"… hot men."

"What did I tell you about finishing each other's…" But he didn't complete the sentence.

"You look great." Justin meant it. "I bet they were throwing themselves at you on Bondi beach."

He remembered dreaming of fucking Brian in the sand, what now seemed a lifetime ago.

Suddenly, he felt tired of going around in circles.

"Why are you here, Brian?"

Brian glanced away but quickly back. "I just stopped by to see if you're all right. Not wallowing in the misery of defeat…"

Justin laughed, the hint of bitterness barely noticeable. "It takes much more than losing an election to devastate me." He wasn't sure if he saw Brian relax or flinch. "It's just a setback; next time we'll win. I'm fine."

Brian looked around, taking in the sketches pinned on the walls, the drawings scattered all over the desk. The brushes, the paint.

"I can see that."

  
3.

"He gave you the club."

Justin spoke quietly, but firmly, looking between Michael - a spread of Rage drawings taking up most of the table between them - and Brian, perched on a stool at the counter, studiously absorbed in his coffee and newspaper.

"He didn't give it to _me_!"

Justin waited impassively.

"Yeah, ok, he gave it to me. But he still thinks I'm a freak! That my marriage to Ben, that our friends, our _home_ are a farce." A tinge of sadness crept into the self-righteousness.

"That's not true and you know it. He was mad and drunk when he said that." Justin leaned closer. "He loves you. That's why he gave _you _the club. His oldest and closest friend."

Michael turned towards the counter just as Brian raised his head from the paper.

"I miss him," he finally gave in, both to Justin and himself.

"I know." Justin also knew that Brian missed Michael more than he'd ever admit: that would never change. "Go on, talk to him."

As Michael walked over to Brian, Justin collected the unfinished notes and sketches for the next issue of Rage from the table.

He looked at the drawings and frowned: the storyline wasn't going anywhere. After the wedding issue, they were at a standstill.

Before he left the diner, he glanced over his shoulder at the two friends. They were talking now.

  
4.

"You know, Justin, I have an excellent cleaning service I could recommend."

Brian made a big, put-upon pantomime of dusting the chair ("Louis XIV?"), before sitting on it.

This time, he'd taken off his coat.

"I'm afraid my considerable Hollywood wealth wouldn't stretch that far."

Justin had cleared a little space to make room for the Thai take-out Brian had brought with him. A floor picnic was out of the question, a health hazard in more ways than one.

"So, Debbie told me you've helped Ben and Michael to find Hunter. Everyone's wondering what you said to him to convince him to come back."

Brian shrugged and stole a piece of lemongrass from Justin's container.

"And now they can all play happy homo family in suburbia." Justin heard the relief, behind the snark. "Minus one homo, of course. Typical of Michael, turning a queer into a breeder."

"Well, Gus is showing worrying signs of straightness, too. At least going by how he throws a ball."

Brian furrowed his brow, questioningly.

"I saw him at the park with Lindsay. He's growing up fast." Justin chewed and swallowed a mouthful of green chicken curry. "He looks happier now that Mel and Lindsay are back together."

"Leave it to the munchers to use the fight against Propositon 14 as an excuse to kiss and make up." Brian took a small bite of his shrimp. "They really don't know how to let go," he added, his eyes fixed on the food.

Justin put down his chopsticks and stood up to grab a couple of beers from his small, second-hand fridge.

"Maybe they don't want to." He handed Brian a cold bottle. "Maybe it wasn't really over for them."

They both took long sips from their beer.

"I should go and see how Gus throws a ball."

He said it so quietly, Justin almost missed it.

"Yes. You should."

  
5.

Justin swallowed the last of his fourth beer, relieved to find that the pain in his hand was finally getting duller.

He made a mental note not to lose himself again in his work for hours on end without a break.

At moments like this, Babylon became the illusion its cheap theatrics ("Not so cheap", Brian would argue) were meant to create.

The lights, the glitter, the music. The beautiful men.

He remembered the elation he'd felt the first time he'd seen all of it.

He'd danced enough for tonight, enjoying the sensation of floating in a sea of sweat-slick muscles, warm skin, anonymous hands and buzzed smiles.

To the rhythm of the thumpa thumpa, he made his way through the crowd.

Brian grabbed his arm at the entrance to the backroom. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" Justin was genuinely surprised, both at the question and at Brian's annoyance.

"Why are you going in there?"

He was fairly certain Brian didn't want to hear about his cramping hand or his long day alone at the studio, so he just raised his eyebrows.

"No, I mean why _there_, when you can have the VIP room?" Was this Brian's way of letting him know he was still on the "special" list? "Cleaner, healthier and hotter men."

"But you're there." It seemed so obvious.

Brian let go of his arm. "And you can't be in the same room as me."

"No, you know that's not true." He wished Brian didn't sound almost… hurt? "I can't be in the same room as you while you're fucking other men."

"It never bothered you before."

"It did, sometimes." Brian knew that, too. "Mostly, it didn't: but then we were together."

After a long pause, Brian nodded. "And now we're not."

"Now we're not."

Justin entered the backroom alone.

And wasn't surprised to find Brian waiting for him when he came back out.

  
6.

That night, as Brian fucked him well past old curfews, they became oblivious to the loud squeaking of the bed and the smell of strangers on each other's bodies.

Sex came naturally to them, and Justin had known it was going to happen since Brian's first visit.

He also knew that it wouldn't change a thing.

Afterwards, they lay next to each other for a long time, hot and sweating in the small space, breathing heavily through open mouths.

"That was great." Justin wasn't sure who'd said it.

He climbed on top of Brian and kissed him, sliding his tongue in, mapping Brian's mouth thoroughly, as deep as he could go.

Forever.

"I'm thinking of going to New York."

Brian took Justin's aching hand in his and rubbed it gently. "I know." He touched his blond hair, measuring the new length with his fingers. "Lindsay showed me the review."

"It's not just the review." He caressed Brian's face, slowly, then moved his hands up and down his arms. "I have to try. Ever since Hollywood …"

"I know."

It was the only encouragement Justin needed.

At the first morning light, Brian got dressed after a quick visit to the common bathroom ("Only because I _really_ needed to piss.").

He took his time, glancing around the room. "You never had this much stuff at the loft."

Justin watched him from the bed, eyes half shut, but following his every move. "I had a lot of things scattered all over Pittsburgh: mom's, Debbie's, Daphne's."

Brian pointed to the computer. "Do you still use it?"

"Yes. Sometimes. I'm taking it with me."

Brian nodded, before leaning down for one light kiss.

Then he left.

  
7.

"We could focus on Zephyr and the Professor, at last! Make them the new uber-couple." Michael was laughing. "Who knows? Maybe even let them have sex?"

"As long as it's not Zephyr's ass on the cover," Justin teased. "We still want queer comic geeks to buy it." He would miss their banter.

"And straight girls! You'd be surprised how many come to the store just for Rage."

They were hunched over drawings and dialogue scrawled on random pieces of paper at the Red Cape counter.

Only one customer was wandering around the shelves: an awkward teenager who pretended to be immersed in Wolverine's latest adventures, his eyes falling repeatedly on the latest issue of Rage.

Justin filed it in his memory, storing away the smell of paper, the soft background music, the tinkling of the door bell.

For future reference.

"So. Where do we go from here? Can Rage and J.T. still be superheroes, now that they're happily domesticated?"

Michael shook his head, equal parts amused and frustrated.

"How many times have I told you already? It's not their marital status that makes them superheroes: it's their superpowers. And last time I checked, wedding rings weren't kryptonite."

Weren't they?

The door bell interrupted them and Justin felt Brian's eyes zeroing on him even before he turned to see who'd entered.

He saved this for future memory, too.

"Saving Gayopolis again? Or are our heroes too busy shopping for new kitchenware?"

As Brian sauntered towards the counter, Justin caught the boy who'd been looking at the comics staring at him, his jaw slack in lust and awe. He smiled to himself, feeling a mixture of pain and regret for the kid he used to be.

"I'll have you know that cock gets sucked in suburban kitchens, too." After he'd said it, Michael threw a nervous glance towards his likely under-age customer.

"Yes, but is it enough to save the universe?"

Justin's question remained unanswered, suspended between the three of them.

It was Michael who finally broke the silence. "No, but for Rage and J.T., it's always a start."

Justin looked from Michael to Brian, then back to Michael. "I guess we've got our next cover."

  
8.

Brian's mouth was warm, wrapped around Justin's dick. His tongue as soft as it had ever been.

When it came to sex, Justin had always assumed that Brian had marked him on their first night together. But in the fog of pleasure and longing that were his mind and body under Brian's relentless sucking, he now knew that the blowjobs they'd shared the following morning had marked him even deeper.

He came into Brian's mouth in long bursts, holding his breath until he was empty, then finally released his tight hold.

"A cover-worthy blowjob, if I say so myself."

"So smug." Justin kissed the impressions his fingers had left on Brian's upper arms. "I've never drawn a kitchen before, though."

"You'll need to make sure you have one in New York." Brian climbed on top of him, and started running his fingers through his hair, yet another mark on Justin's memory. "And possibly a bathroom."

"Not exactly the manor of J.T.'s dreams."

Brian kissed him without taking his hands out of his hair.

"No. But it will do for you."

  
9.

Justin knew that Brian wouldn't be late for Debbie's party.

"Adoptions are such gay events."

"Especially gay adoptions." Justin wasn't only referring to Hunter. He thought of all the kids Debbie had taken under her wing, of how many children and grandchildren she'd picked for herself.

Of how each and every one of his friends had chosen their own sons and daughters, mothers and fathers.

"You can't stay just because you're going to miss them," Brian whispered in his ear, before walking towards Lindsay.

How could Brian still read him so clearly?

Justin helped himself to some ziti and cheap Frascati. He chatted with Ted and Blake (the nervous guy Ted had taken to the fundraiser hadn't lasted to his birthday).

Em told him about the old schoolmate who'd appeared after Drew's departure. Calvin from Hazlehurst. "Not quite true love, you see. But more than a rebound fuck." He swirled his cocktail, lost in thought. "Definitely more than that."

When he was ready to leave, Justin decided to slip out without saying goodbye, because he knew it wasn't one.

He glanced around Debbie's garish living room once more taking in every detail, every color, every reflection of light, certain he'd need it all for his first painting in New York.

Finally, he looked towards the corner where Mel and Brian were taking turns throwing a rubber ball to Gus. He didn't want to interrupt, but couldn't take his eyes off them.

Only when Brian looked at him and mouthed "Later", did he feel free to go.

  
10.

"I love you, you know." Brian said it just like that, almost in afterthought, reclined and smoking on Hunter's mattress.

Justin had been packing as much as he could into his old duffel, thinking about how the rest of his things would have to be scattered among his different homes, when Brian's words registered.

It was more than he'd expected, yet, he wasn't really surprised.

"You think I'm saying this now because you're leaving."

Justin kneeled down so he could look Brian in the eye.

"No. I think you're saying this now because you know I'll leave anyway."

Brian put out his cigarette and gave him that vulnerable smile Justin knew was only for him.

"I'd never hold you back."

Justin smiled back in the way that was only for Brian. "Neither would I."

"If I did, I'd offer you all those things you want…"

"The things you think I want."

"Rings, vows, a house in the country…"

"Babies, white picket fences."

They laughed, then Brian took a deep breath. "I could do that. And mean it."

"But you won't."

"I won't."

Justin couldn't think of a better declaration of love.

Their faces were inches apart, now. He saw himself reflected in Brian's eyes, felt Brian's fast, warm breath on his face.

"I want you to keep all my things at the loft." Justin's voice was soft but firm. "We're going to spend the night there, because I want to take a decent shower tomorrow morning before you drive me to the airport."

Brian placed his hands on either side of Justin's face and held it for a long time, drinking in every detail of Justin's eyes, his skin, his mouth, before kissing him.

Before inhaling him.

Justin broke the kiss gently, to say everything he needed to say.

"I want you to pick me up when I visit. And I want you to come over there. We'll see each other all the time." Then he added, for clarity: "If you want to."

Brian opened his mouth to say something that would almost certainly have sounded like denial, but Justin stopped him. "Say yes," he murmured, his lips against Brian's mouth.

And Brian did.


End file.
